


sweet like that

by falloutgirl



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Bloodplay, F/F, Knifeplay, Light Dom/sub, RULE63 FANXING WHATS UP!, also very lightly, doing the lesbian dance of 'does she really like me', for like....four years, slightly...., this fic is just yifan and yixing, well this is the conclusion at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 09:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18797617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutgirl/pseuds/falloutgirl
Summary: “You like knives, huh,” Yifan says, really for lack of anything better. Her eyes can’t stop following the movements of Yixing’s hands, can’t stop trailing over the way deft fingers avoid being cut as the blade arcs through the air over and over again.“I’m a collector,” Yixing replies, and the smirk stays firmly on her face.





	sweet like that

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hanguang-jacked (nasaplates)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nasaplates/gifts).



> happy extremely late birthday riley! 
> 
> i got YOU :]
> 
> title from "he'll never love you" by hayley kiyoko jdfkgkg 
> 
> ok enjoy !

“So,” Yifan asks, and pushes her short black hair behind her ear. There isn’t really enough hair to move out of the way per se, but it’s developing into a new habit the longer she finds herself surrounded by Yixing’s magnetic presence. 

Yixing gives her a look, all smile, eyes coy—sharp, just like the butterfly knife she keeps spinning in her fingers.

“You like knives, huh,” Yifan says, really for lack of anything better. Her eyes can’t stop following the movements of Yixing’s hands, can’t stop trailing over the way deft fingers avoid being cut as the blade arcs through the air over and over again.

“I’m a collector,” Yixing replies, and the smirk stays firmly on her face.

They met, back in college, in a low level entry philosophy course, the one listed as a G.E. requirement. Back then, four years ago, Yifan was more gangly limbed and short tongued, more likely to sit in the back of the lecture hall, head down, nose to the book, content to just take notes and pass the class in silence.

Yixing, however, has never been that. She pushed and she prodded and she questioned their philosophy teacher every class, made him think, made him work, made him question his resolve. 

Yixing was the standout in the class by far, and Yifan felt like a moth to her flame, following her wherever she’d go.

They’re here now, two weeks away from graduation, and Yixing’s newly acquired habit of spinning that damn butterfly knife has gone from worrisome, to slightly worrisome, to  _ why does it make me feel this way,  _ to perhaps—just maybe—Yifan wondering what that blade might feel like pressed against—

“Fanfan are you even listening?”

Yifan shakes her head. Her hair falls in her eyes and she blows a breath of air through it. Anything really, to buy herself more time before she has to look Yixing in the eyes again.

“Sorry, I—no I wasn’t.”

“Be good,” Yixing murmurs, and offers a pat on Yifan’s knee. The touch burns, magnetic. It’s been four years. Two years since Yifan realized she was a lesbian. She still hasn’t come out to Yixing yet, still doesn’t even know if Yixing is just really  _ that  _ friendly or might actually like women. But Yifan digresses. Yixing’s words send a chill through her spine.  _ Be good _ . 

“I just might get you a reward if you can recite these materials back to me,” Yixing says, and that takes Yifan out of the present and into a very specific frame of mind, one she doesn’t like visiting often, one she hates thinking about when thinking of her best friend…. one that— 

“Is Engels that boring?” Yixing snorts, patting Yifan’s knee again.

“No, aha—I just have a lot on my mind.” Yifan finally pushes all the hair out of her face. Looks Yixing in the eyes. 

She’s still just as beautiful as the first day she saw her. The butterfly knife glints off the lamplight coming from the corner of the room. Yifan feels a chill up her spine. She doesn’t want to focus on it.

“Tell me about it?” Yixing says, and she ever rarely offers an opening like this. Yifan has known Yixing for four years, might call her her best friend—but that’s all in Yifan’s head. Yixing has always been so far out of reach, too close but never close enough. Like trying to grasp a short, powerful gust of wind. Yixing is contagious in her enthusiasm, in her ambition, and her drive, and secretive in everything else. 

Yifan’s best memory was New Year’s of their junior year, both alone and stuck in the dorms for the holidays, speaking broken Mandarin to Yixing, who of course spoke their mother tongue so fluently. Yifan berated herself, constantly, the language foreign in a mouth where it should have been native. Like a tree uprooted and replanted in a place where it didn’t belong. Yifan has always felt like that tree, lifted out of her roots and replanted in whatever soil they could find, whatever home she could build. 

It took three beers before she even tried, syllables and tones slipping on her tongue. Yixing walked her right through it, like she always did, by a hand or by a lead. And offered the same small smile and warm pat against Yifan’s cheek.  _ Happy New Year,  _ Yixing had murmured in Chinese, her voice melodious where Yifan’s felt clunky,  _ Good job _ . 

“I’m just thinking about graduation,” Yifan says, coming back to her reality. She watches as Yixing picks the knife up again, absentmindedly, and starts spinning it in her hands again. It arcs between her fingers, moving like water, blade glistening in the light, reflecting off the surface. Yifan thinks sometimes Yixing is just like that blade, reflecting back everything she sees and giving nothing of herself in return.

To anyone but Yifan, at least.

“You’ll be fine,” Yixing says, and nudges her shoulder against Yifan’s. They’re so much bonier compared to Yifan’s, so much slimmer. Yifan herself knows she’s on the taller side for a woman, knows she takes up too much space— 

But Yixing never seems to mind.

“Thanks,” Yifan says, not knowing what else to say, eyes still fixated on the knife.

“You like watching me twirl it, don’t you?” Yixing smirks, and Yifan feels her entire world whittle down to this one moment.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your eyes,” Yixing spins the knife again, “they never leave it.”

“I think it’s fascinating.”

“Is that it?”

“Yeah,” Yifan says out loud,  _ I want you to hold it against my chest,  _ is what she says inside her head. Surely, there is no point in her ever voicing that statement out loud. 

“I don’t think that’s everything,” Yixing murmurs, fingers still flicking the blade. “Be good for me, and you’ll get that reward.”

Yifan chokes and tries to hide it as a cough. “I th-thought that was for memorizing Engels?”

“I think you know what I’m talking about… don’t you, baby?” 

“Yixing…” Yifan whispers, “Yixing.”

She puts the knife down. “I know, baby.” She scoots closer, presses a hand against Yifan’s soft cheek. “I’ve always known.”

Oh.

Yixing pushes her onto her back. Yifan falls like the tide.

It’s easy from there, to let Yixing take the lead. There isn’t any scenario where she doesn’t take the lead, Yifan surmises. Yixing was a born leader, born with gumption, with rage, with the power and the ambition to take and to give and to nourish and to nurture. Under Yixing, she feels her body drop like a weight. Yixing settles herself on Yifan’s chest, legs spread wide over her hips. Yifan puts her hands on Yixing’s slim waist, her fingers digging into hip bones. Yixing’s answering soft sigh is enough to make Yifan do it again, and again. It feels like they’re playing catch up, the moment their lips touch. Yixing’s mouth is dry and her lips are chapped—Yifan has all of two seconds to wonder if she put on lip balm before coming over to Yixing’s dorm room before she gets a tongue down her throat.

Yixing kisses her fiercely and with all the passion she has in their community rallies, with all the energy she gives the crowd. Yixing kisses Yifan like she’s swallowing her down, like she’s committing her every curve to memory, runs her tongue up the roof of Yifan’s mouth just to watch her squirm. Yifan feels the sweat gather at the back of her neck, feels her hands get clammy against Yixing’s skin.

“You can touch me,” Yixing says, and moves Yifan’s hands off her waist and under her shirt, onto her boobs. Yifan thinks she’s hallucinating a dream. She hopes she never wakes up. Yixing’s boobs feel so soft in her hands, and she runs the edge of her finger over Yixing’s nipples. The answering moan is all the permission Yifan needs. She works on Yixing softly, even still while they make out, and even though the angle is hard, every sigh she gets out of Yixing’s mouth is a sigh to commit to memory. Yixing touches her face like she’s touching something sacred, cradles her cheek like Yifan is the most precious thing in the world. 

A shudder runs up her spine again. She squeezes Yixing’s boobs in retaliation.

“What do you want?” Yixing asks, breathless, as she works her shirt and bra off. Now that Yixing is topless, this is starting to feel more and more real.  _ Wow,  _ Yifan thinks,  _ I’m the biggest lesbian in the world _ , her eyes never leave Yixing’s chest.

“You… you know,” Yifan says shyly, a blush rising to her cheeks. 

“I want you to say it.”

“Yixing…”

“Be a good girl for me,” she coaxes, and the nickname goes straight down to Yifan’s core, “be my good girl.”

“You fight dirty,” Yifan groans, covering her face.

“I play to my advantage, with the information I already know.” Yixing smirks. 

“Can you,” Yifan asks, voice soft, “take the… the knife and… just hold it against me, please.”

Yixing reaches over Yifan to get the knife and brings it back to her. “Like this?” she says, holding the blade just millimeters off Yifan’s skin. It sends a thrill up her spine. “Y-yeah,” she responds. Yixing grins, and pulls Yifan’s shorts down and off her body.

Yifan has never been naked in front of another girl that meant as much to her as this one does. Those flings don’t count, so many instances of a one-and-done. Yixing is so much  _ more _ . Has always been. And Yifan knows whatever happens after this… 

There’s no going back, for her.

She looks up and makes eye contact with Yixing. Yixing offers her the same smile, same pat on the knee, and Yifan’s resolve is reaffirmed. She nods her head, and takes her shirt off, leaving the sports bra on. Yixing strips out of her clothes, and soon enough, they’re naked, on the floor of Yixing dorm, mere meters from a bed—

But they’re together.

Yixing touches her all over, tells her  _ sit back and let me handle you, baby _ , and all Yifan can do is agree. Yixing’s left hand goes over her skin, over her body, caressing and teasing everything. Her right hand firmly holds the blade in place, right where her heart is. Every time Yifan can feel the slight press of metal against skin, a wave of emotion flows over her. Yixing touches her like she’s a valuable possession, like she’s more than just an uprooted tree. Yixing’s presence lifts her and elevates her, reminds her of her parts, reminds her to be whole.

Yixing sits between Yifan’s spread thighs. Her eyes drink in the sight. Yifan wants to feel exposed, has the overwhelming urge to close her legs. But she doesn’t. Heat creeps up on her. She’s so  _ turned  _ on. Yixing is the hottest woman on the planet. The hottest woman Yifan will ever meet.

Yixing slides her first finger in at the same time the blade presses hard enough against Yifan’s chest to break skin. Yifan watches as worry crosses Yixing’s eyes, feels the way her hands stop moving. 

“No,” Yifan says, “keep going.”

“Blo—”

“Keep,” Yifan interrupts, “going.”

Yixing studies her for what feels like a long time. Yifan holds her breath. Feels taut. Exposed. 

A smirk crosses Yixing’s face. She runs her thumb over Yifan’s clit, a devil’s move. She tilts the knife right under the first cut, just a little. Cuts another. A drop of blood pools on the blade’s edge. Cuts another. Yifan feels so turned on she can't breathe. Yixing gets to work, and moves her fingers harder, her entire focus on Yifan and her body. Yifan can’t stop staring at the way that Yixing’s forehead creases in concentration, can’t help but think about how she is the sole focus of all of Yixing’s attention. She feels fire in her gut, the determined look in Yixing’s eyes, the strong set of her shoulders. Yifan spreads her legs wider.

Yixing pushes up to two fingers, thumb still just grazing her clit, just teasing Yifan, giving her a taste of what’s to come.

“St-stop teasing,” Yifan moans, voice hoarse, Yixing flicks her clit again, just to give her a taste, and Yifan groans. The blade still rests against her chest.

“I want to fuck you,” Yixing says, “next time, I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you so good,” her voice is breathless. Yifan feels herself sweating at the idea of a  _ next time,  _ at the implications that this could go on forever, if she wanted it too. And hearing Yixing’s voice so messed up like that—it’s the first real time Yifan can feel her effect on Yixing. See the way Yixing’s hair is matted to the sides of her face, cheeks red, and bright, with embarrassment and exertion.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yifan blurts out, and Yixing’s fingers falter just a little.

“Yeah?” She asks, her eyes bright.

“Yeah,” Yifan sighs, dreamy.

Yixing removes her fingers from inside Yifan, and lowers herself down onto her belly. Before Yifan can whine at the loss of Yixing’s hands, she says, “You’re about to think I’m real fucking hot soon,” Yixing smirks, before pulling Yifan’s legs close to her face and closing her mouth around Yifan’s clit.

“Je— _ sus _ f _ uck _ ,” Yifan cries out, body already hypersensitive from everything Yixing has done. She arches her back off the carpet, but Yixing’s arms keep her lower half pinned in place. Yixing’s tongue laps up around Yifan’s clit, alternating between sucking hard and fast, or giving her short kitten licks, each movement of Yixing’s tongue driving Yifan more and more insane.

“You— _ ugh— _ you’re a d-devil woman,” Yifan moans out. She has her hands gripping the carpet for dear life as Yixing continues to eat her out. Yifan feels Yifan’s hands trace the soft flesh of her inner thighs, nails ghosting against sensitive skin. Yixing takes a momentary break from her current occupation to bite down into the meat of Yifan’s thigh, hard enough to leave a mark. Yifan feels her body convulse from the pain, eyes going dark around the edges. She never thought… Yixing would enjoy this as much as she does… never thought, in a million years, she would be here, lying legs spread apart, for her best friend.

_ I wouldn’t have it any other way _ , Yifan thinks, and smiles at Yixing’s face between her thighs, even if Yixing isn’t looking up. Her tongue laps up against Yifan’s clit in a now aggressively steady rhythm, Yixing done with her teasing for her. She reaches a hand up and automatically Yifan grabs it, locking their fingers together over her own boob. Yifan has never felt so at peace. 

“Yixing, Yixing, Yixing,” Yifan whines, voice louder than she thought it would be. Her thighs keep shaking, her legs keep tensing. “Yi-Yi _ xing _ ,” Yifan cries out, but Yixing doesn’t stop, and Yifan wonders if Yixing might be smirking against her vagina, can feel the ghost of a smile against her skin. Yixing keeps going, mouth not stopping, fingers still gripping Yifan’s hand tightly, while her other hand runs a finger up her inner thigh.

Yifan can feel herself about to fall off the edge, legs shaking from the impossible pleasure Yixing keeps giving her. Yifan hopes Yixing never stops—never stops being vibrant, being vocal, being loving, being herself.

Yifan comes to the feel of Yixing’s mouth sucking on her clit and the memory of the first time she heard Yixing’s laugh in her mind. 

When Yifan opens her eyes, it’s to Yixing straddling her thigh, getting herself off against her. The blade is back, this time to the right of Yifan’s jugular. It’s almost like Yifan can taste the metal, almost like she wishes Yixing would pierce the skin. The beauty of Yixing is that, eventually she will, but Yifan knows Yixing will make her work for it. 

Yixing has always been a big fan of hard work. 

Yifan takes Yixing’s boobs into her hands and squeezes, running her fingers over her nipples over and over again while she watches the way Yixing gets herself off quickly. The chill of the metal makes Yifan think she can go for another orgasm and another, so long as it’s Yixing giving them. Yixing’s fingers are deft against her own clit, already knowing all the right places to hit. Yifan watches the way Yixing gets herself off. Remembers the way her fingers press against herself. Wants to know Yixing like the back of her own hand. 

Yifan commits the way Yixing’s face scrunches up when she comes, to her memory. She will never forget this.

Yixing collapses on top of Yifan, and both of their chests are heaving. Yixing runs a soft hand through Yifan’s now tangled hair, and they both bask in the silence, in what Yifan hopes could be  _ love _ .

“Time to shower,” Yixing says, after another five minutes, because she clearly isn’t the type to enjoy post coital cuddles.

“And then sleep,” Yifan says, stretching her body. She can already feel the ache from where laying on the floor for this long is starting to hurt. 

“Sleep?” Yixing snorts, “No, no, no, you still have things you need to memorize.”

“But… Yixing…” Yifan whines.

“I said you’d get a reward, didn’t I?”

“Was that… not the reward?”

This time, it’s Yixing’s turn to smile. “Baby,” she says, “that was just round one.”

Yifan grumbles as she gets up to shower, Yixing’s beautiful laughter the best background noise.   __

 

**Author's Note:**

> happy late birthday again to riley i love u
> 
> thanks so much for reading! drop a comment/kudos and tell me how you feel~ this is my first time writing rule63 fic....the things i do for my friends uwu 
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kimjuncottonsgf) as well :)


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